Wordless
by wickedsistah1024
Summary: Whoever said that falling in love with your best friend is easy definitely has another thing coming. *IchiRuki AU*
1. Him

This is something I've posted over at facebook, written around 1:30 am one sleepless night a few days ago. This is the first time I've written something completely AU, without any of the shinigami stuff and all. I was quite afraid to post it here in FFN, actually, because it isn't like any of those I have written before but with much encouragement from **ChibiKitty14**, I have finally decided to just go for it.

This is actually just an experimental chapter; it has been almost a year since I wrote anything and I've kind of forgotten how to write (which is why I haven't updated Schemes; to my readers, please check my my profile for my excuses...errm, reasons). There is a possibility that this will be taken down, depending on how people react to it.

Please read carefully. The characters will not be named, and it may be hard following them and the story. It was a deliberate action on my part, because there is a certain atmosphere I am trying to achieve here. If you find it annoying, I apologize.

**Disclaimer:** BLEACH is not mine.

**Warning: **OOC-ness, cliche, slight angst (?), and other whatnots.

* * *

_Whoever said that falling in love with your best friend is easy definitely has another thing coming.

* * *

_

She was never good with words, but she thought _siblings_ would be the perfect term to describe them. What with him wholeheartedly sharing his family to a girl who never had the opportunity to meet hers, except for a sister that left the world too soon for anyone's liking.

He was never good with words either, but he surmised _best friends_ would suit what they had perfectly. Always watching each other's backs, hanging around each other almost all the time, sharing philosophical thoughts, cracking corny jokes...typical best friend thing, if you asked him.

They were almost inseparable, that people would wonder where the other was when they catch sight of one walking alone in the school corridor. It was unbelievable that these two had, in fact, started on the wrong foot.

They met during junior high when she was sent to a fairly small town by her cold and unfeeling adoptive brother—which happened to be her deceased sister's husband—to live on her own. With the exception of the retrieval of her weekly allowance and the occasional (_obligatory_, she thought dryly) phone calls to check on her, there was really no communication between brother and sister. In retrospect, she thought she had to be extremely grateful to this brother of hers for sending her away like that, because that was when she met him, on the first day of school, giving her directions towards the primary school building, wearing a scowl that seemed to be perpetually etched on his face. She, in turn, gave him her iciest glare (that he admitted several years later actually gave him chills) as she forcefully shoved his hand away (which was patting her head condescendingly as though she was a cute, little poodle), telling him that she was, in fact, a junior high student just like he was.

He wasn't good with words, and neither was she, and no one knew exactly how or why, but the two just…clicked. The moment her amethyst eyes met his warm amber pools, both knew that they have found the lifelong companions they have both subconsciously been yearning for. On what levels, they were uncertain at that point. What mattered was the feeling of completeness...that finally, the voids in their hearts left by the death of the people they loved (he, his mother; she, her sister) seemed to disappear every moment spent together.

No, they weren't the stereotypical cheesy boyfriend-girlfriend type. They don't pass sweet notes during class or stuff each other's lockers with flowers and other gifts, nor do they have lunch in a secluded place away from public scrutiny and hold hands on the way home…Instead, they would bicker and yell at each other, give slaps and kicks in the shin (usually at his expense—he would never dream of fighting back, at least physically, that is), hang out at the local arcade trying to outdo each other…Perhaps it should be mentioned that they were, as a matter of fact, **not** a couple.

Nope, nothing of the sort. They soon stepped into high school, inseparable as always, but never crossing over the boundaries of friendship. People have speculated countless of times on the real status of their relationship; bets have been made as to who will 'fess up first. Their friends even went as far as giving them both a _"push in the right direction"_, as they call their meddling.

She just brushed it all away. He was almost a brother to her, after all. _His_ dad was _her_ dad. _His_ twin sisters were _her_ younger siblings as well. To even consider a preposterous idea such as them being together romantically was borderline incest to her.

Yes, _to her_. This was why she missed the stolen glances, the longing looks…the not-too-subtle-possessiveness, the smile that he reserved especially for her and her alone…and the special kind of attention he bestows upon no one else.

_He_, on the other hand, had fallen deeply in love with his best friend.

It was quite a shock to no one else but her when he finally decided on just saying it one fine day on the school roof top. He wasn't good with words—he usually expressed himself through the intense glares he would direct at people he found rather unpleasant, the occasional chuckles and smug smirks, and if the situation warranted it, his fists. This was why there were no flowery words, no declarations of devotion—just a simple statement that was very characteristically him.

_"I want you to be my girlfriend,"_ he had said.

She merely blinked at him, slowly processing if she had heard him correctly._"I'm sorry, would you run that by me again?"_

Typical confession scene.

_"I want you to be my girlfriend,"_ he had repeated, locking his amber eyes with her amethyst, trying to convey all the emotions he could not put into words.

There was a long stretch of silence. She was never good with words, so she settled on responding the only way she knew how.

She _laughed_. She laughed so hard tears escaped the corners of her eyes. She held onto her stomach as she laughed her heart out. _"Tell me you're kidding,"_she had replied as she wiped the tears away. _"That has got to be the funniest thing, ever!"_

_"It wasn't a joke,"_ he had blurted out instinctively.

She stopped laughing then and stared at him. He defiantly stared back.

Finally, after a long moment of nothing, he nonchalantly shrugged as he placed his hands inside his pants pockets. _"I was just practicing."_

Her mouth formed a perfect "o", before she raised a brow and smirked. _"You sucked. Big time."_

And as he smirked back, she missed the thinly veiled dejection in his eyes.

* * *

I haven't actually finished writing it all, but if I do, it'll probably be posted on my facebook account. I need your honest opinions on this one. It will determine whether or not I'm actually going back to writing or not. Send me a review please. No flames, but constructive criticisms are very much appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	2. Her

This is the second installment of Wordless. You might find recurring themes in this chapter similar to the first one, for the simple reason that I planned it all to be one big oneshot. With the way things are going, this'll probably end up as a threeshot.

I can already sense the disappointment you will feel after reading this chpater. It wasn't my best...but, well, I tried. I kind of had a hard time writing it, and was afraid that expectations will not be met. I apologize in advance.

There is also some feeble attempt at very very light and subtle humor to balance out whatever angst is in this chapter. I am not sure if I succeeded in either, but as I have said earlier, I tried.

Thank you to everyone who sent their reviews. They are very much loved. :D

**Disclaimer:** BLEACH is not mine.

**Warning: **OOC-ness, cliche, slight angst (?), and other whatnots.

* * *

_Whoever said that time heals all wounds probably has a broken clock._

_

* * *

_

"Hey look, you...uhh…called at a bad time. I'll just…call you back, okay?"

_You probably won't, _she thought bitterly. The phone clicked shut and she sighed. She couldn't help but let out a dry chuckle at his feeble attempt to end the conversation.

How did it come to this?

No one saw it coming. None of their friends and [his] family knew how or why, but one day, everything changed between the two of them.

She started hanging out with the girls more; he stopped coming to the school rooftop for lunch. His calls were scarce and short; her visits to his home, even lesser.

They soon reached a point where they would feel awkward if left alone for a few minutes, and couldn't even hold a decent conversation about the weather. Calls were ignored, text messages left unanswered; greetings were short, eye contact was avoided and several excuses were made.

The once inseparable tandem was rarely seen together that by the end of junior year, no one dared to question why neither joined the annual school trip.

Both knew that there was an irreparable chasm growing between them.

And because neither was really good with words, there had been no confrontations, no apologies, no attempts to find a solution…There was no motivation to directly address the problem at hand.

Senior year soon started, and without catching a glimpse of him during the course of the entire school break, she was able to think things over and finally came to a decision.

She wanted him back. She wanted things to be back to normal.

But she had never been good with words. When someone didn't make sense, she'd literally pound it into them; when she was caught in an argument and on the losing end, she would even the score by giving her opponents bone-chilling haughty stares. If she failed to comprehend things, there would always be that crease between her brows and a confused look in her bright eyes before all hell would break loose.

So in all honesty, she was a nervous wreck. It wasn't everyday that you try to make up with your best friend over something you yourself do not know. She figured that if he didn't listen, she would just have to resort to castrating him.

The bell for lunch rang loud and clear in her ears as she reluctantly stood up and walked towards his desk.

She knew he had seen her approaching, and it pissed her off that he continued acting as though she wasn't there, avoiding looking at her general direction as he gathered his things for the one-hour break.

Knowing her for so many years, he should have expected that she wouldn't put up with such treatment. She wouldn't stop unless she had things her way. But he still couldn't help but jump a little in surprise when she slammed her hands on his desk and gave him a defiant glare.

"You, me. Rooftop. Now," she demanded. And knowing what was best for him, he nodded in acquiescence.

She was standing there with squared shoulders watching the school grounds when he reached the rooftop. There was a moment of silence between them as no one dared to utter the first word.

Finally, she gave a sigh of resignation as her shoulders dropped slightly.

"_What happened?"_ she vaguely asked.

Not really the best way to start a confrontation.

He scratched the back of his head and answered, _"With what?"_

It must be reiterated here that verbal expression wasn't their best points.

She loosely clenched her fists as she debated on what to do. Should she start with _Plan B: castrate_ _him_ now?

She took a deep breath and settled on looking at him over her shoulder, her eyes showing how vulnerable she was at the moment without her knowledge.

"_I don't want to lose my best friend."_

He briefly looked away at the sheer expressiveness of her eyes. It was very rare for the petite woman to show weakness to anyone else. This showed how much this whole thing affected her, and he didn't want her hurting like that.

But then again, there were those two words that unintentionally hurt him: _best friend_. He mentally cringed—that was all they would ever be perhaps, and if so, he should take it than completely lose her.

He closed his eyes to buy time to compose himself. When he opened them again, there was a genuine smile both in his amber pools and on his lips as he said, _"Idiot."_

And that was that. As they stared at each other's eyes with true smiles on their lips, they knew no other words needed to be said. They understood each other, and at the moment, they were fine with that.

Things were almost as they were before. Except they still didn't hang out as often, he still didn't call as much, and it was rare for her to drop by his house.

_So no, things weren't back to normal_ as she thought they would be. But it was a big leap from the awkward silence and feigned indifference.

Perhaps thing can _never_ go back to normal between them. Thought it stopped growing, there was still that chasm between them that she knew would never close.

_But whoever said you couldn't build bridges to cross chasms?_ She could only hope he would meet her halfway.

The final stretch of senior year finally came, and everyone became busy racking up good grades and preparing for the highly-anticipated graduation ball. Gossips started filling the air—who would go with who, what kind of dresses to wear, which shoes to buy, yadda yadda yadda.

She found herself in the midst of it all, hearing rumors being passed back and forth, getting dragged from boutique to boutique, shop to shop. And soon, with the constant prodding of her friends, she finally found the perfect outfit for the grad ball.

The only problem? The escort.

No, she didn't have a hard time finding one, for she was after all a really attractive young lady, whose petite stature people often found adorably cute. Many male seniors from different classes had attempted to ask her to the dance. Often, she was _ambushed_ during lunch time when none of her friends were there to help her out. She, of course, rejected them all, subconsciously thinking with a smile that someone's hyperactive sense of protectiveness wouldn't let these guys get away unscathed had she said yes.

Days passed, and then weeks, yet the two never broached the subject of the dance. It was understood that they would be going together, she thought smugly. Everyone knew they were the best of friends, and therefore "unspokenly reserved" for each other. After all, best friends were supposed to accompany each other to social events like the school dance, right? Right?

A week before the event and a month away from the actual graduation found her humming happily as she ambled along the corridors one lunch time. She had found—or rather her brother's secretary had sent her—some jewelry that would go well with her dress for the ball. The said secretary heard about her upcoming dance and relayed it to her brother who, in a random fit of kindness and generosity (or so she thought), sent her late sister's jewelry to her. She tried it on the night before and found herself giddy and excited for the ball.

She wasn't good with words, so all she managed to say that time her brother called was, "Thanks." That was fine though, because her brother was a man of few words as well.

As she made her way to the rooftop for lunch, a handsome second-time senior with dark hair and ocean blue eyes—that could pass as her best friend's older brother— approached her and asked, "So, you going to the dance with somebody yet? Want me to go with you?"

The handsome [second-time] senior smiled flirtatiously and she recognized this guy as someone on her "jocks-I-must-avoid-at-all-costs" list.

It was a list of problematic guys her overprotective best friend compiled for her.

As she opened her mouth to say 'no', she caught sight of a familiar figure heading her way. Amber eyes stared at her questioningly as he cocked his head towards the handsome [second-time] senior.

She smiled at the new-comer before turning back to the handsome [second-time] senior and, as if hit by a sudden fit of idiocy (read: wanting to tease the scowling, amber-eyed boy 'til he turned green) she said, _"I'll think about it."_

The handsome [second-time] senior took that as an almost yes, and went away with a big grin. She turned to stare at her best friend and raised a brow inquiringly at him.

In hindsight, she thought of how foolish she must have been, rejecting guys, assembling the perfect outfit and assuming she had an escort to the dance. But how was she to know back then what was to happen next? How was she to know that the next words to come out of his mouth would shake her to the core?

"_Why didn't you say yes?"_ he asked with genuine curiosity.

The teasing smile that crept on her face faltered a bit as she searched his eyes for any sign akin to mirth. There was none.

"_What?"_ she asked unintelligently.

"_That guy, why'd you reject him? And I heard from the others that you've been rejecting every single guy who asks you to the dance. So, why?"_ he inquired as he crossed his arms over his chest.

She sputtered indignantly, _"I thought we were going together."_ It was said without prior thought, having been at a loss as she faced this completely unexpected conversation.

He blinked at her, and with a quiet voice very unlike his usual brash self, muttered, _"Oh. I…didn't know."_ He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. _"I already asked someone else."_

Time seemingly went into slow motion as she continued to stare at him. Everything else around them became blurry to her, just some random mesh of colors, as her mind processed what had just been said. She didn't hear the clicking of heels, the random shouts, the opening of doors…she missed the curious gazes, the whispers, the pointed fingers.

And then suddenly, everything went back to normal pace as she blinked.

"_Idiot,"_ he looked up as she let the half-hearted insult out of her mouth.

And then…she smiled.

"_I didn't know you had it in you."  
_

He smiled back; he was finally taking the first few steps to moving on. _"Yeah, well come on. Let's go get some lunch."_ He turned around and made his way to the stairs leading to the rooftop.

She was never good with words, because she had always been afraid to take the risk. She found herself reflecting on that day on the school rooftop seemingly so long ago, when he had said he wanted her to be his girlfriend.

How, behind the laughter, he missed the real meaning of her tears.

How, when she said "Tell me you're kidding," she meant "Tell me you're not."

How, when she told him he sucked, he didn't catch the underlying bitterness for being led on, only to have her hopes crushed.

How, when she smirked and watched him return the gesture, he failed to see the tightness on her lips.

And now, as she watched him walk away from her, she couldn't help but hate herself for trying to contain feelings that had long since been bubbling up inside of her…

_…for denying that she had indeed fallen hopelessly in love with him._

* * *

Yes, that was Kaien, the handsome senior. It was requested by Voidy, and I know you are disappointed about the very little role I gave him. It just wasn't in the plan to have another guy like that(he was supposed to remain a...stereotypical jock). And yes, he was a repeater if you didn't get what second-time senior meant (he just looks too old to be of the same age as the two). I told you, I am bad at subtle humor.

Oh well, please send me your reviews and constructive criticisms. No flames please. Thanks for reading and have a good day!


	3. Them

Sorry it took so long. I had computer problems for a while, and writer's block on top of that. The story didn't go quite as planned. This chapter wasn't supposed to be like this. But ah, things happen. Read my post-chapter notes to know why.

And I'm sorry I messed up my grammar and tenses. It was hard writing the first part. Sorry! And I was too lazy to edit this. Forgive my typos. and feel free to point them out.

**Disclaimer:** BLEACH is not mine

**Warning: **OOC-ness, cliche, lots of sap and cheese, and other whatnots.

* * *

_Whoever said actions speak louder than words is so on the money._

_

* * *

_

Their friends watched on in obvious disappointment as the two grew farther and farther apart in a matter of days.

They had been so relieved when the tension between the two that lasted all junior year was lifted just as their final year in high school started. Things seemed to go by pretty smoothly from then on.

_Until now._

Their friends never really found out the real deal between the two during junior year, though close proximity with the two led to a few speculations. The two never really confided in their friends, and their friends knew and respected the fact that the two were each other's confidant.

Imagine how completely baffled their friends were when the two first stared drifting apart. And none of them could do anything, because no one knew what was going on. Their friends all heaved huge sighs of relief when they finally made up—and were now groaning in chagrin to find the two once again taking separate paths.

As days went by, their friends would watch from afar how he would gaze at her, while unconsciously clenching his fists, as she fooled around with one of the school's most notorious players (_"a second-time senior"_, one of the friends supplied).

Everyday for a week, their friends would catch him pausing mid-stride as he catches sight of her with the blue-eyed senior, talking, laughing, flirting...by the lockers, along the corridors, at the cafeteria... He would glare at them while trying to be as inconspicuous as possible on eavesdropping, and then proceed to walk away with brows more furrowed than usual.

The perfect picture of a jealous man.

His eyes though, would often tell a different story. As he opens his amber pools from momentarily closing them to regain composure, their friends would see an emotion so unbecoming of the brash, hard-headed teen: resignation.

And everyday, right after he would leave, their friends would swivel their heads towards her direction, just as she notices him walking away. Her smile would falter just a tiny bit—not that the blue-eyed jock could tell—and her eyes would follow his retreating form until he turns a corner and completely disappears from sight.

The perfect picture of an interested woman.

Their friends would have believed the happy giggles she would let loose as she turns her attention back to the oblivious blue-eyed senior, had they not seen her own amethyst pools slightly glaze over with something they thought they'd never witness from one so strong-willed and stubborn: acceptance.

What bothered their friends the most was what lay beneath those intense feelings of defeat. Underneath the strong facades filled with scowls, smiles and giggles, two pairs of eyes showed poorly-masked pain.

Their friends could only shake their heads at how utterly hopeless these two were.

* * *

The night of the highly-anticipated dance finally came. Everyone was dressed to impress, donning the best their closets and wallets had to offer. Well, everyone except him.

He found himself sighing heavily as he fixed his tie in front of the full-length mirror in his room. He couldn't wait to call it a night, crawl to bed and sleep. He wasn't looking forward to the dancing, the small talks, the merry-making and other forced social niceties.

_And no, he wasn't looking forward to seeing her by another man's side._

He ran a hand through his unruly hair. He didn't bother styling it—he saw no reason to. He chanced a look at his wrist watch, it read 6:35 pm. He needed to pick his date up to make it to the start of the program, 7 pm. He took his keys and left the house sluggishly.

He found it ironic that he was driving yet found no real drive to go. How silly.

Without much conscious thought, he soon found himself standing by the door of his date's house just as the said date bade both parents farewell with a promise to return home before midnight. How fairytale-ish.

His date stood there, in an immaculately white strapless dress that reached the ankles, with a slit up to the knee. He didn't miss the red tint on his date's cheeks—too much make-up perhaps? He mentally shrugged; he knew next to nothing about women's cosmetics. Besides, he preferred women who kept it simple. Like...like _her._

Damn.

He tried to divert his attention back to his date as his eyes regarded his date's rather petite form.

Yes, his date was petite, with dark, dark hair tied together by a red ribbon. For a second, he thought he saw someone else—_her_—standing in front of him. But when a pair of light, light brown—was that orange?—eyes blinked up at him, all thoughts of another left him.

For all he knew, she was—at that very moment—walking towards the red-carpeted entrance of the dance hall where the graduation ball was to be held.

And beside her, with a cocky grin on the face, would be the blue-eyed jock proudly showcasing her to the public as the (un)fortunate trophy for the night.

Her arm might even be intertwined with the jock's own, as the latter leads her to the refreshments.

He willed the images away as he offered a hand to his date and led the way to his car.

It was going to be a really long night.

* * *

She stared at her reflection long and hard as she nervously ironed out invisible wrinkles on her clothes. She had on some really light make-up, just enough to highlight her features—face powder, a tinge of blush, the faintest lip gloss.

She wore a simple black halter dress with an asymmetrically-cut skirt, the longer end reaching mid-calf. On her neck hung her sister's necklace—the outline of a butterfly encrusted with diamond studs on a long, elegant silver chain. It complemented her dark dress and equally dark tresses. Her black hair was let loose in its usual style that perfectly framed her face and accentuated her milky shoulders—shoulders that moved up and down as she took in a deep, long breath.

Her eyes went to the moon shining outside her bedroom window, illuminating everything in its ethereal glow.

She wasn't good with words, so all she did was heave another sigh as she thought of how she could survive the night knowing that he would be there, enjoying the company of another.

* * *

The night turned out to be one major disaster.

There was chaos, as people who drank one too many cups of the apparently spiked fruit punch danced wildly and wreaked havoc in the dance hall.

He snorted as he watched his intoxicated schoolmates embarrass themselves in front of the still sober ones. How effing cliché.

He himself had a cup or two, but it wasn't enough to cloud his judgment. His date hadn't been as lucky, having drunk more than a petite body frame could handle.

He drove his date home after the girl tried to…touch him in all the wrong places, and had a really hard time explaining to the very angry parents how their daughter—who had passed out by then—managed to imbibe alcohol in a supposedly harmless HIGH SCHOOL graduation ball.

They probably wouldn't let him near the girl again. He merely shrugged this thought away.

And now, as he sat with his abstemious friends watching the hubbub, his eyes subconsciously surveyed the whole area. _Again._

And still, there was no sign of her. He wanted to ask his friends, he really did. For who would trust a jock with a girl as beautiful as she, alone, with a spiked punch bowl on the table? But he restrained himself, constantly repeating 'none of my business' like a mantra in his head.

And then…and then he caught sight of the blue-eyed jock, in a dark, secluded area of the hall. Both hands were resting on the wall as the jock loomed over something…_someone?_

Before he knew it, he was standing and making his way there, leaving confused friends behind.

He saw the outline of a petite girl in between the wall and the jock, trying to push the significantly larger body away. Apparently, the jock was dense—really dense, didn't take the hint, and continued on with the advances.

As he watched the girl continued to struggle with whatever force a small body could muster, his steps became hasty and his heart rate increased in leaps.

SLAP!

He froze dead in his tracks as he heard, more than seen, flesh hitting flesh. He watched on as if in some twisted sort of fascination as the jock's head—which turned sideways from the impact—slowly tilted back down to stare at the petite girl who had the gall to attempt a hit.

He knew, without seeing the jock's eyes, that danger was written there.

And he snapped.

As the jock, now fuming mad, attacked the girl with furious kisses and bruising gropes, he clenched his fist and, without a second's delay, drove it home.

Home, apparently, was the jock's jaw.

The petite girl turned to look at this God-sent savior who pummeled the very drunk pervert.

He eyed the unconscious jock in disgust as his still clenched fist tightened in unrestrained anger.

How dare this bastard lay his hands on…_on her.._

And remembering the presence of the petite girl who now stood beside him, he turned to eye the shaking form in concern, before his amber pools widened in realization.

_It wasn't her._

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his trance, and he peered at the owner of the said hand to see his friend, a boy with dark hair and eyeglasses, shake his head.

"_She didn't come."_

He just stared at his friend, as if willing the bespectacled boy to speak more without verbal prodding. Questions were floating in the air, yet none was spoken. Until a soft, gentle voice broke through the thick silence.

"_She couldn't…stand seeing you…with someone else,"_ a woman with long auburn hair—her closest girl friend—said in a voice as quiet as a whisper.

"_And you know this how? She talked to you?" _His voice was laced with a mixture of skepticism and incredulity. He was her best friend, after all. And she never talked about…these things with him.

The auburn-haired girl smiled. _"She doesn't talk much about how she feels," _she answered as if reading his thoughts. _"But…I've known her long enough to hear behind her words…see behind her actions. She hasn't been okay in a week. Ah, no, no," _she shook her head as if refuting her previous statement. _"She hasn't been okay since…since the two of you started drifting apart."_

He stayed rooted to the spot, still unconvinced. He didn't pay attention to the growing crowd surrounding them, or the still unconscious jock at his feet. It didn't sit well with him how much their friends knew about what was going on between them. Even more than those involved, it seemed.

His bespectacled friend pushed the falling glasses up, "_What we're trying to say is: you're dense."_

A vein threatened to pop in his temple, but as he saw their other friends nod solemnly, he quietly considered his next course of action.

A single word resounded in his ears. For someone who wasn't good with words, that single word sufficed.

"_Go."_

_

* * *

_

Hours passed without much notice on her part. Cars zoomed past her window, and the stars shone bright. She was fairly surprised when a knock on her door shattered the silence that engulfed her place. Only when she chanced a glance at the clock did she realize it was already half past twelve.

And being as disoriented as she was, she failed to raise suspicions as to who would come knocking on her door that late.

She made her way to the door and grabbed the handle, too weary of previous musings to actually have a particular thought at the moment. She slowly turned the knob and swung the door open one little inch at a time.

Her eyes first fell on a clothed chest, and subconsciously noted that the person standing by her door was wearing a suit, and that it fit that person's physique quite well.

Her eyes traveled upwards, landing on a raised chin, a strong jaw, pale red lips, a defined nose, and intense amber eyes.

There was silence as their eyes locked, as if challenging the other to speak first.

She finally opened her mouth to talk, but he beat her to it, as if he was waiting for a cue.

"_Why didn't you tell me?"_

She paused and just scrutinized him, as he in turn, studied her features. His mind registered that she was wearing her dress for the ball.

"_You…uhh…wanna come in?"_

No, not the answer he was looking for but perhaps an open invitation for a more in-depth discussion.

She fidgeted nervously as he made himself comfortable on her couch.

"_So…how was the party?"_ She hoped her attempts on small talk would make him forget the original purpose of his visit.

"_You didn't come." _It wasn't a question, but sure had the effect of one.

"_I…well…" _she started stuttering, and cursed herself inwardly at how weak she was carrying herself at the moment. _"Idiot! So what?"_

It has been proven many times that when people are guilty of something, it is then that they are most defensive.

"_Why?"_ He remained calm and composed, but his scowl was deepening by the minute.

She looked away. _"I just…I just don't fell well, alright?"_

From the corner of her eye, she saw him stand and walk towards her. A hand gently grabbed her chin and turned her to face him before she felt some pressure on her forehead.

Her eyes met his again as he placed his forehead against hers.

This was it. He was finally baring his heart, his soul to her. He was making himself vulnerable, being so open with his emotions like this, risking the possibility of rejection. He was willing her to read through his soul those feelings that words can never do justice.

It was all in her hands now. He was giving her the choice. He wanted—needed—a response, any kind of response from her.

_But she said nothing._

* * *

She bit her lip as she continued to stare at him, wondering if she was reading him right.

She was afraid, so afraid of what this might entail. If it didn't work out…she doubted their friendship would remain intact.

But it was there, whatever it was she was searching for. It was in his eyes…in his very soul.

Her mind flashed back to the memories they've shared. The happy moments, the beatings, the playful banter, the reliance.

And as he slowly pulled away, pained with the heaviness of apparent rejection, she couldn't help but see a future without him, so bleak, so lonely. _So painful._

Before he could completely detach himself from her, she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down so he would meet her halfway.

_In the sweetest silence of all._

"_I hope you're not expecting me to say that," _she said when they parted.

"_That what?" _he asked.

"_That…you know. The three words," _she said, feeling mortified. He grinned.

"_Idiot." _And pulled her back in.

People said that falling in love with one's best friend was easy, people said that time heals all wounds, and people said that actions speak louder than words.

The two of them? They never said anything of the sort. But in the end, they realized, they needn't have said anything at all.

* * *

END

* * *

Okay, be prepared for a rat infestation with all the amount of cheese here. Gah! I'm sorry it turned out to be so sappy. The dance wasn't supposed to play a big part in the story, and I had a hard time writing this one. You can tell I struggled when I had so many characters to include but can't name any, and can't use "he" or "she" to refer to them. I hope it isn't as horrible as I think it is. I actually have a version of this that suggests there are more chapters (as the conflict is yet to be resolved), but there's this new idea in my mind that wants to be written so badly. And I refuse to write another fic without finishing this one, so I kind of rushed it. Sorry!

Anyways, I'd like to thank a lot of people for reading this fic and sending in their thoughts: **emotionalcrack, fanficssuck, Ninjashake, blackteaplease, rollmodel, DetroitBleachWings, Hekka, XxdanixX, HOP3FUL, Goku's Daughter, Black Sun Upon An Icy Sky, kimono2007 **(I'm sorry I've been behind in reading your fic. I'll get to that soon. XD), **Secret Starr, Aileah, Voidy, S D Chaos, VioletCrush, teshichan, ashezo, DanceOfTheWhiteMoon, loveyouso, shoelace009, headyzest, yllanger-huntress, damncritic, AnimeFanx3, LittleRuu, -ICHIRUKIFTW-, **and of course, the sweet sweet **ChibiKitty 14 **and **Lazy Mew** who encouraged me to post this fic here. Thank you so, so much, from the ver y bottom of my bottomless heart. I love all of you. =D

Here's a bonus scene I wrote~

* * *

Monday morning came and the corridors were buzzing with random stories of Friday night's experiences. There were lots of laughter as the more responsible students who avoided the punch bowl told stories of how one drunk schoolmate made a fool of himself in front of the entire school by running around the field stark naked.

The two continued on their way, catching excerpts from the random stories here and there, but never stopping to hear more.

It was almost a usual morning, except his hand held one of hers as they made their way to their room.

A few people stopped their chatter as they stared at the joined hands, before breaking into a series of whispers and knowing smiles.

Their friends watched from a distance as the two ignored the attention and continued on as if no one can deter them from fulfilling a purpose.

Suddenly, a blue-eyed boy—yes, the jock, you guessed it—walked towards the couple. The player eyed their hands in a questioning manner.

_"Is this why you refused to come with me to the dance?"_

_"What happened to you?" _she countered as she blatantly stared at his swollen jaw, a large blackish-purplish bruise clear for everyone to see.

The jock shrugged. _"Dunno. Got socked by some random punk who took advantage of my drunken state, perhaps. The punch was spiked and well...I had lots of it. Coward, hitting me when I'm clearly not in the right state of mind. I'll pummel him when I see him."_

_"Good thing you got home, then."_ She snuck a glance at her companion.

_"Yeah, well, I woke up pretty quickly—"_

_"Outside the school, by the dumpster!" _Someone shouted. Laughter echoed through the halls at the expense of the blue-eyed jerk...ehh, jock.

The now mortified man glared at the student who interjected and made way towards the poor soul.

Their friends observed as she looked at her now boyfriend with a raised brow.

They read the look as _"You did that to him?"_

They saw him smirk and raise a brow himself, albeit cockily. It meant: _"Yeah, got him good, ne?"_

Their friends shared smiles as they continued to communicate with each other the way only they knew how.

_Wordlessly._

_

* * *

_

Review please? =)


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